“But I can do it myself! I’ve proven I can be responsible, haven’t I?” wailed Pinkie Pie, hugging her knees as she perched on one of the squishiest chairs. “It’s my middle name—Pinkie Responsibility Pie. I mean, look at me now! The Cakes are letting me run the whole bakeshop today!”

True, but on this wet Sunday, there was little to do. The bakery section of The Sugarcube was relatively quiet on this March day, especially since a heavy downpour had started a few hours ago. The wind was blowing the rain into sheets, sweeping down the streets in downtown Canterlot, and the power lines were swaying wildly. Most people weren’t venturing out at all, and those who had were tucked away in the coffeehouse section of Sugarcube, nursing a latte and texting their friends. A few customers came into the bakeshop for a box of cookies or cupcakes from time to time, but it was otherwise mostly empty. A small group of girls monopolized one of the few tables tucked away in a corner, lounging on the only couch, or seated in battered but comfy chairs that had become too shabby for the coffeehouse.

“We know, darlin’,” said a blond girl sitting next to her, “and you’re doing a great job, but the Canterlot Cake Festival’s gotten too big for any one person to manage alone. It’s not just a local thing anymore. We’ve got people coming in from other cities, more exhibitors—and that means more acts and who knows what all. If the Cakes can’t do it all by themselves, then you can’t. And it’s not good for you when you get all stressed out.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Pinkie Pie said, eyes narrowed in suspicion. “I mean, I guess it isn’t good for anybody when they get all stressed out, especially Rarity,” Pinkie Pie conceded, “because her eye goes all weird, like this.” One cheek and eye began to tic violently. “But you mean it’s bad for anyone to get stressed out, and you don’t mean just me, right, Applejack?”

“Uh, yeah,” said Applejack. “Point is, you’re gonna need an assistant to pick up whatever you can’t do.”

“Well, I can’t do it,” said Rainbow Dash, swinging one high-topped leg back and forth over a couch arm. “Soccer captain, I’m lined up to coach Little League—sports at CHS pretty much stop without me. We’re gonna hand Griffon Central’s tail back to them on a silver platter. Oh, and there’s my grades,” she added as an afterthought, “but yeah—the Cake Festival’s gonna have to do without my awesome.”

“I’ll help with some of the baking,” said Applejack, “but spring’s a real busy time for us at the farm.”

“And at the Rescue Center,” said Fluttershy, wringing her hands. “All those unwanted kitties—it hurts just thinking about it. We might even have bottle babies this time, and I couldn’t take time away from them. I’m really sorry, Pinkie Pie. Please say you’re not mad at me.”

“Well, no, DUH, because you’re one of my bestest besties, Fluttershutter,” said Pinkie, throwing one arm around her shy friend and hugging her until she squeaked, “plus adorable kitties, and I don’t need an assistant, so I don’t even know what everybody’s talking about.”

“I don’t suppose Rarity would be Pinkie’s assistant?” Fluttershy said hesitantly. “She said she was going to volunteer.”

“Huh,” snorted Applejack. “If I know Rarity, she’s gonna try to get someone else to volunteer.”

The bell above the shop door jingled, and a girl with lilac and white streaked hair stepped into the shop. Everything about her shrieked “expensive,” from her shoes, to her fur trimmed coat, to the crown-like hairpiece that sparkled on her head, and even the tiny dog she was carrying in her purse. None of her clothing was even slightly damp, which strongly suggested that just outside stood a chauffeur with an umbrella. As the door opened, the girls could hear snatches of conversation, including the voice of their friend Rarity:

“So would you be a dear and oblige a lady?”

“Toldja,” murmured Applejack.

“Ahem,” the expensively-dressed girl said.

“Oops,” said Pinkie Pie. “Customer! Better see what she wants!” She jumped straight up from her squishy chair, tied on a large white apron with a heart-shaped bib, and landed directly behind the counter in one extended bounce.

“Probably the moon on a stick,” called Rainbow Dash, not bothering to lower her voice.

Diamond Tiara might have heard that, or perhaps she was just naturally irritable, because she snapped, “Well, finally.”

“Hiya!” said Pinkie Pie with a bright smile. “Do you want cupcakes? Or cookies? Or we have cupcakes with Oreos on them, which are kinda cupcakes and cookies at the same time, but nobody ever thinks about it like that, isn’t that weird? Of course, if they were cookies, then we wouldn’t sell them, because Mr. and Mrs. Cake are really, really strict about making everything from scratch, and everything’s really great today, except for the peanut butter cookies,” she added behind her hand, in a stage whisper that could probably be heard across the street, “because I helped burn them myself. I told you they were giving me a lot more responsibility these days,” she added, for her friends’ benefit.

The bell jingled again, and this time Rarity entered, carrying an umbrella with a lace pattern on it, and followed by a tall, skinny boy wearing a black raincoat and hat. He carried a large, heavy-looking black case, and so much water poured off him that he was quickly standing in the center of a puddle.

“Isn’t it much nicer to be dry?” said Rarity sweetly. “I’m sure you’d rather be dry while you explain why you can refuse a perfectly reasonable request.”

“Oh, no,” said the boy, both hands up in defense. “I don’t care if it’s like a party or it is a party, I still don’t do parties. I don’t want anything to do with parties.”

“That’s such a shame,” said Rarity. “I am usually so good at finding hidden gems, and I’d simply assumed because I’d seen you playing that—that thing at the train station, that you must have some abilities. Well, if you aren’t any good at running parties or being amusing . . .” She caught a glimpse of herself in one of the mirrors running around the walls of the bakeshop, and gasped. “My poor hair! The sacrifices one makes for friends.”

“Hey, who said I wasn’t any good at running parties or being amusing?” protested the boy. “I’m very amusing. See?” A small ball rolled out from the sleeve of his raincoat, followed by another, and another, and another, until there were five. He juggled them one-handed, seemingly without looking at them.

Diamond Tiara sniffed. “I’ll take one of the blackout cupcakes.”

“Okey-dokey! I wonder why we don’t have any whiteout cupcakes. If there are blackout cupcakes, there should be whiteout cupcakes, and anyway, blackout cupcakes aren’t really black, they’re brown.”

The skinny boy shook his head slightly, as though he were trying to get water out of his ear. One of the balls he was juggling hit the floor, but he caught it as it bounced up. All five balls disappeared back up his sleeve.

Pinkie Pie bent down and slid out the tray slightly to pick up a cupcake. “Not that one,” snapped Diamond Tiara. “That one’s slightly smeared. I want a perfect cupcake. One of the ones in the front.”

“Okay, okay,” said Pinkie Pie. “Geez, Louise.” She disappeared entirely as she dove down to slide out the tray.

“It’s such a shame that you don’t feel it’s important to give back to the community,” said Rarity.

“I’d like two, actually,” said Diamond Tiara, leaning against the glass case. “I want one as a sample, so that one has to be perfect. And I want them each individually wrapped.”

It was impossible to discern exactly what Pinkie Pie said in reply, but the boy shook his head again, like a dog hearing a whistle inaudible to humans, before going on to say, “Give back to the community? I just got here last week! I don’t know if word gets out or what, but I can’t volunteer for anything, I can’t – I don’t want anything at all to do with parties, and – ”

“Here ya go!” piped Pinkie Pie, popping up from behind the glass case like a jack in the box.

The boy froze. His eyes went straight to the pink hair, extra frizzy from the humidity in the air, and his jaw quite literally dropped. “I volunteer.”

Rarity, taken back, said, “I thought you said you didn’t want anything to do with parties.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He strode forward to the counter with a bright, slightly manic smile, and stuck out his right hand.

“Excuse me? I’m waiting for my cupcakes to be individually wrapped,” began Diamond Tiara, but her hands were suddenly full of dripping wet hat, thrust at her by someone who hadn’t even looked at her. “Ew!”

The boy was so tall and Pinkie was so comparatively short that he had to reach across the counter and down to shake her hand. “Hi. I’m Cheese Sandwich. And I just volunteered for it, whatever it is.”

“Usually volunteers are met with shrieks of joy. I didn’t expect a job interview,” complained the boy. “I’m starting to rethink this.”

Despite his protestations, he’d made himself entirely at home. The raincoat was draped out and drying on a nearby hard-backed chair, the hat was hanging on the post of another, and his long legs were propped up on the large black case he’d brought in. His brown hair, which had been virtually flattened with water, turned out to be curly and dense, and as it dried, it bunched, puffed, and settled until it was uncannily like Pinkie Pie’s. And he was virtually inhaling almost every kind of baked good in the place.

Few people could help liking this particular group of friends. They went out of their way to be friendly to any new student or stranger, even a stranger like this, who seemed very strange indeed. Pinkie, on the other hand, sat back in her chair, arms crossed, every line in her body radiating skepticism. For his part, he seemed determined to make an impression. Almost any kind of impression would do.

“I should have known it. Practically the minute I get someplace, someone grabs me and says, “ ‘you look like the kind of person who would like to plan a party.’ I can almost tell it’s coming on.”

“I don’t believe that,” said Applejack. “Why would someone ask a complete stranger to plan a party?”

“Why not? Your friend just did.” He turned to Rarity. “I looked up, saw you standing there, and thought to myself, ‘Cheese, there stands a girl who is about to ask you for a teeny-weeny favor. And it’s going to be a party, because it always is.’ Thing is, though, I can’t—I mean, I’m not really interested in parties anymore.”

“Well, all righty then!” said Pinkie Pie, with a toothy smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “That works out just absotootly-lootly fine. You don’t want to throw parties, and I don’t need an assistant, because I can do it all myself. And pshht, if you say you don’t even like parties, how good of a party planner can you be?”

His eyebrows knit. He swung each leg down from the case, and slid forward in his chair.

“Try me,” he said, cracking his knuckles.

“Oh, yeah?” said Pinkie Pie, sliding forward in her own chair and leaning in until they were practically nose-to-nose. “I bet I can beat you, party for party.”

“Wish I had popcorn,” muttered Rainbow Dash. “I saw something like this in one of those Westerns Applejack made me watch.”

“Shh!” said Fluttershy, trying not to bite her nails.

“Vanhoover Regatta,” Cheese began, ticking off parties on his fingers.

“Fall Formal Crown," Pinkie flung back.

“Alumni Association.”

“Spring Fling.”

“Alumni Association.”

“You just said that,” Pinkie Pie pointed out.

“No, different Alumni Association. That would have been . . .” he rolled his eyes up to the ceiling, clearly trying to remember, “ . . . right before the second time I was ‘asked to withdraw’ from school. Or maybe it was the first. I still say the Conga line was a great idea. It seemed like a good idea at the time. How was I to know so many of the alumni needed hip replacements?”

“You know that girl who was in the shop when you came in?” said Pinkie Pie, with the satisfaction of one playing a winning card. “I planned her birthday party. And she liked it,” she added, sliding back in her chair.

Cheese blinked. “What girl? Oh. That girl. I’m impressed. I bet it’s hard to make her happy.”

“You have no idea. Anyhoo, I’m really, really busy with all the planning I have to do.” Pinkie Pie rose and flicked invisible flour off her apron. “Thanks, Rarity, for finding me an assistant, but I don’t need one. Sorry for wasting your time.” She turned as though she were headed for the kitchen.

Applejack glanced over at Rarity. “What ails Pinkie Pie?” she said, scratching her head. “She usually wants to make friends with everybody.”

“I’m afraid I wounded her pride,” murmured Rarity. “Oh, dear.”

“Wait!” exclaimed Cheese Sandwich, leaping to his feet. “I gave my word I’d help. Didn’t I?” He held one arm out to the group of girls, and his eye met Fluttershy’s, as though he instinctively knew that she’d be his best support.

“Um, yes,” said Fluttershy.

“See? I don’t break Cheesy Promises, ever.”

Pinkie Pie stopped in her tracks, then turned around slowly, as though she were really seeing him now. “No promises? Ever? Cross your heart and hope to fly, stick a cupcake in your eye?”

“Swear on Camembert. I’m totally serious. Look, I gave up parties for good this time, and I don’t need to be any kind of official co-planner or assistant. In fact, I’d rather not. I’ll just help. Tell me what you need done, and I’ll do it.”

“What I couldn’t do with an offer like that,” sighed Rarity.

“Here’s a shovel, straight to the pigpen,” agreed Applejack.

“That’s not what I meant at all,” Rarity retorted.

“Well,” Pinkie Pie said at last, “if you promise you’ll really just help, then okey-dokey-lokey.” She sat back down at the table, and Cheese followed suit, swinging his legs back up on the case.

“I’d better make a few notes,” he said, and pulled a pen and a large clipboard out of his bushy hair. “Let’s get organizing.”

“The Cake Festival really started as a way for the Cakes to promote The Sugarcube,” Applejack explained. “ A lot of people just came in for the coffee and hardly realized there was this whole bakery back here and that they baked everything themselves.”

“And that everything’s from scratch and great ingredients and totally yummy,” added Pinkie Pie. Cheese said something inaudible through a mouthful of crumbs. “See?”

“I remember the first one,” said Applejack. “They set it up on the high school grounds. Just a couple of booths, a cake-making contest, a cake eating contest—"

“Which I totally would have won if I’d been living here,” said Rainbow Dash.

“No way,” said Pinkie Pie. “Nobody eats goodies faster than me!” She hurled a cookie into the air and got most of it in her mouth. Rarity shuddered at the display of bad manners.

“In any case,” Rarity said, “it’s become far more important than that now. There are several cake judging competitions, entertainment—it’s become a little bijou town festival. Last year they sent a travel writer from Manehattan. He did a profile of the entire town, and even mentioned the boutique.” She sighed. “I’m sure they would have included that photograph of me if there had only been room.”

“It’s more than the Cakes can do now, especially with the twins, and they decided I’m totally the girl for the job!” exclaimed Pinkie. “Kinda,” she added, frowning. “Still,” she said, brightening up again, “I’m in charge. I’m sure they want some more help, and they were probably going to give tons of advice on what they want anyway. I know all about the kinds of cake they like to showcase and the stuff for the baking contests, ‘cause I live here and I see it every day.”

Cheese swallowed. “In a bakery?” he asked, surprised.

“No, above it. With the Cakes, of course. And I’m great at party decorations, too, so I guess you can help find music and entertainment acts. We’ll have to be picky this year,” she said. “At least, I hope so.”

“That,” muttered Rainbow Dash, “or we’re just gonna wind up with Flash Drive again.” She mimed an electric guitar. “Oooooo,” she wailed, “sa-a-a-ve them whales, they’ve only got yooooo in their sails, they make friends with their tails, this song totally fails, but save them whales.”

Cheese stared in horror, like a rabbit at an oncoming truck.

“Rainbow!” Fluttershy scolded. “That was a beautiful, beautiful song Flash Sentry wrote.” All of her friends looked at her incredulously. “Anyway, he meant well,” she admitted, “and it was nice for the poor whales. We got four whole dollars to help whale habitats.”

“Well, if you really want me to find entertainment acts for you,” Cheese said, as he stood up and stretched, “you’ll probably want me to audition.”

“Huh?”

“You can’t know if I can pick out good stuff unless you know what I can do, right?” He didn’t wait for an answer, but began unsnapping the clasps of the case he’d brought with him, and extracted a full sized piano accordion.

“Oh, do let’s,” agreed Rarity. “He’s really rather good. Play that French one,” she suggested. “It’s very nice and atmospheric.”

“Um,” Cheese said, looking down and fussing with the keys, “I think maybe I’ll stick to polka this time.”

“Oo!” said Pinkie. “My favorite!”

Hers seemed to be the deciding vote, because Cheese swung into a lively polka. Pinkie Pie, tired of sitting in one place so long, couldn’t resist the impulse to dance.

If an observer had happened along just then and glanced through the shop window, he would have seen what looked like several scenes at the same time, as though different sets of images were overlaying others and fighting for prominence. A skinny boy and a dancing, skipping girl—lederhosen, juggling, and for some reason, enormous wheels of Swiss cheese—some things so inhuman that they simply could not have been there--and then there was just a skinny boy and a laughing girl again, and our hypothetical observer would have found himself in need of a swift drink.

Cheese stopped playing, and the girls applauded, Pinkie Pie jumping up and down. Then she stopped herself.

“Pretty good,” she admitted. “I can play ten times as much, though.” When Cheese looked inquiringly at her, she added, “I have a one-girl band suit. It’s got everything on it!”

“I want to see that,” Cheese said, eyes sparkling, and then noticed the darkness outside the windows. “Oh, Stilton. I was supposed to be back already. Probably hours ago.” He hastily began putting the accordion back in its case. “I don’t get a lot of time off, so maybe tomorrow we can talk about when we can meet—and how. That’s a thing, too. I have to keep a low profile. Do you all have fourth period lunch?” They nodded and said that they did, and he began snapping back the clasps on the case.

“Wow,” said Pinkie Pie, looking at the devastation on the table. “That sure is a lot of crumbs.” She ran off to get a push broom.

“Oh, boy,” muttered Cheese. “I had no idea how much I was eating. Hold it—I do have it, though.” He opened the case again quickly and pulled out a bag. “Do you think change is ok?” He started pulling out handfuls of quarters, piles of dimes, and twisted dollar bills, and looked down into the bag. “Enough left for bus fare!” he cheered. “That’s great.”

“Uh, can I drop you anywhere?” said Applejack. “I’ve got the truck just around the way, and it’s no trouble.”

“No, no,” said Cheese hurriedly, pulling on his raincoat. “I mean, thank you. The rain’s stopped, and I actually prefer the bus. I’ll, um—see all of you tomorrow.” He grabbed his accordion case, stood there for a moment, and then walked towards the door backwards, waving, before he turned and left.

Pinkie came back with the broom. “Is he gone already? Aw,” she said, as her eye fell on the pile of change, “I wasn’t going to let him pay. Here, Fluttershy,” she said, waving at the pile, “take it for the whales or something.” She began brushing up the crumbs.

“So you’ve got yourself an assistant, huh?” said Rainbow Dash. “We could all use one of those, I bet.”

“Well, I certainly could,” agreed Rarity, “and I’m sure Fluttershy could use some help scrubbing cages.”

Applejack lifted her mug of hot chocolate. “Here’s to assistants,” she said, and clinked with everyone else.

“And to Cheese Sandwich,” Fluttershy insisted.

“I know his name,” murmured Pinkie Pie as she swept.

Author's Notes:

A month or more in the making, believe it or not. Here at last is the CheesePie Equestria Girls fic I've been promising. I commissioned that art from Quere and began working that long ago.

A few notes on the universe:

This is the Equestria Girls universe, specifically the world of Canterlot High School. I thought that EG would be greatly improved with Cheese Sandwich in it, especially if he were with Pinkie Pie, and then I decided to make it be so, because that's what fanfic is for. I also thought the Equestria Girls universe would be a challenge!

It's canon up through the end of Equestria Girls. If you saw that, you know what that means: no Twilight Sparkle, and therefore no Flashlight. Flash and Twilight exchanged whatever flirtation you saw onscreen, and then she went home to Equestria. Sunset Shimmer remains Flash's ex. There aren't going to be any other ships, so you won't find anything to contradict your favorites or force something you don't like on you, unless of course, you don't like CheesePie. I can't help you there.

A few minor tweaks from the EG 'verse, and I don't think they're enough to make it AU, but you be the judge.

There's no magic in the EG world of Canterlot, or at least, nothing that anyone recognizes. No one remembers the events of the Fall Formal very well except for Principal Celestia, Vice-Principal Luna, Sunset Shimmer, and of course the Humane Five. The recent book implies that lots of people see the magical girl transformations of the Humane Five, but so far, that hasn't been true in the shorts. The only people present have been Vinyl Scratch, who seems to have her own magic, and Trixie, who thinks she does.

The story takes place after Equestria Girls, the following spring, from the middle of March to June 10th. That will overlap with Rainbow Rocks, probably.

And of course, I've added Cheese Sandwich and some of my personal mythology of Party Pony Magic, because even the "human" world of Equestria Girls needs more party ponies!